We'd gotten back from sightseeing to take a look at what Mama had given us. We were promised a new hut to stay in, rather than the public housing, where we constantly worried about robbery. The hut, however, was nothing too fancy. A one room log cabin with a small firepit in the center, it'd have to do for now. There was enough space for our rucksacks to make a good wall between us for some limited privacy. We set up sleeping bags on either side, and just began to relax. There was a sort of bench and table set up in the corner of the 20 by 20 room, so I layed down my weapons and began to clean them.

First off was the makarov. I removed the magazine and broke the weapon down by pulling its disassembly lever in the grip. From there I pulled the slide and spring off. It'd been awhile since anypony cleaned it, so I used some spit and worked it into the spring and slide. It was an atrocious lubricant, but it was better than nothing. The handgun was in good condition, and as such I put it back together. I then moved on to the shotgun.way.

The shotgun ended up being rusty in the barrel, however I could make do. It's not going to be shooting slugs very far anyway. I pushed a cloth through the barrel, clearing out a good bit of dirt and debris. I then pulled the two pieces apart and took a look at the inside of the weapon. It was rather basic, and seemed alright. I put it back together and decided I wouldn't mess with it for a little while. Then it was time to look inside the AKM.

The AKM had been through literal hell and back. It hadn't rusted, but it was surely worn. The finish of all the parts had been so heavily damaged it looked as though someone dragged it behind a car. The fire selector had a nasty habit of falling from full auto to semi, but tightening it fixed that. It did, however, reassure my fear that somepony dropped this from a vehicle of some sort. I pulled the cleaning kit out of the stock and removed the cleaning rod from the barrel. I gently ran a cloth through the barrel, there was no rust but certainly dirt. The sight on the front had been bent, so I used the cleaning rod to bend it back into place. The warps in the stock weren't significant, but even if they were the most I could do is find a new stock.

I put them all back together, and slipped them into their compartments. My CIRAS vest was empty, but I placed that along with my pants in the bottom of my sleeping bag to ensure that they'd be warm by the time I awoke the next morning.

It was getting late, and I needed to go back to my own personal hell once more.

Yep, hell was the right word to describe it. This was sometime when I was fighting for Steel. We were in the streets of CloudsDale, and he could only send pegasai up. This was before they had my feathers clipped. I'd been equip with some old Chinese vest and rifle. A Norinco copy of the SKS. It was outdated sure, but it worked as an assault carbine. This was one place that Celestia was not going to give up without a fight. We suspected that she'd been hiding here, as we'd captured Canterlot a couple of months prior.

There were already militants there, so recruitment and transport wasn't the issue. I happened to be one of them. Locals were pretty good for this job, as it wasn't like any earth or unicorn could have known the layout of this place. Plus getting guns up here only required to have a group of ponies fly down to the terrain below and grab them from the mountains. Ammunition was the same story. We would, however, have no medical supplies as Steel had nopony trained to use them up here.

Because of the issue of flight, however, weapons were generally light and shipped in crates. Most of the other ponies here were armed with light submachine guns, putting us at a disadvantage to the well oiled Equestrian war machine. The streets of Cloudsdale had made that belief much more obvious. The Equestrian military had been on high alert in the area after a few anonymous tips, and they had even began arming the local militia. The disparity between the two factions was more evident when we saw that they'd given the militia body armor.

The fighting broke out at nightfall on a full moon, we had no night optics so we decided that the more moon we had the better the fighting chance. However almost immediately after the first gunshots were fired, we'd been surrounded by militia. Unbenounced to us the location we were using to stage the battle had also been surrendered. It was over before it even started.

I'd managed to avoid arrest by jumping out a window and flying cross roofs. Nopony else was that lucky.

We couldn't afford to stay in this location all fall, so we broke the news to Mama. She hadn't been surprised, neither did she ask where we were headed to. There was, however, a last favor she needed done. There was a unsavory part of town that'd started a few weeks back, they'd managed to have been under the radar but now they were bringing too much attention. It was a skin joint, a nameless one at that. If there was one thing Mama didn't need, it was those ponies attention.

They worked in a hut a little down from that commons area. The crowd seemed to make it hard to miss, and surely to some of the locals they would be indeed missed.

"You're leaving, so it shouldn't be a problem. Just remember that some ponies won't take kindly to me shuttin down their whore house. You be careful there okay?" She'd warned me.

I had told her I would, she'd described the guards as being punks, but this town was filled with punks, so for a punk to be a punk to a punk he'd really need to be a... well... punk. Anyway, approaching the place sorta made that previous statement make some sense. The guards were two stallions, roughly my size and build, armed with baseball bats. I marched inside, and they didn't bother patting me down. They'd try to pat Bellona down, but I'd catch the stallions wrist and give him a stare that'd kill if stares could.

He looked me in the eyes and returned the favor.

"You got some balls old man."

"I've been told. You won't be touching her though, capiche?"

"She's not for sale?"

"You got it."

I drew my kabar and put it to his chest, concealed by my jacket.

"And you best believe me, touch my property and I'll touch the other end of your spine."

He got the message, and let us through.

"You called me property, the fuck's that for?"

"Well I mean, I have dragged you around for a few months, might as well take up the formality."

"You know I outrank you in this right?"

"I haven't exactly been run down on the rank structure here. We'll do that later. Anyway it got you in unmolested, you want Mr. 'I have 13 STDs and have not been tested' to be the good young stallion groping you or do you want to be called property?"

"Gotta point, but I'm still holding this against you."

"Feel Fr-"

We'd just stepped through into the shack itself, only for memories to flood back to me. I knew this mare. She was behind the bar, a couple of stallions staring at her thinly veiled rack. It was a weird sight. The memories, however, flooded back. She hadn't aged a bit.

It was mid August, and the Yakistani summer had died down considerably already. My unit had been calm, we'd wound up guarding a field hospital in the middle of Ramsgyisti, a small city in the northernmost region of YakYakistan. The snow had already piled upon the ground, creating a vast ocean of white. In the center of the camp we had made a firepit. I sat there most of the day. I didn't really have much to do, and the days would go by slow. I'd just sit by the fire, the other soldiers who would walk by may sit back and chat, others though had work to do. Not me, I had a nice little fire.

When I'd met her, the snow had piled up over the brim of my helmet, and packed its way into the crevice of my uniform collar. I'd had a cigar in my mouth, which I'd lit using a piece of plywood that I'd set fire to. She sat down beside me, her grey coat somewhat blending with the snowy backdrop. Her tan MARPAT uniform, however, created a contrast with the rest of the ground. She was, at the time, a floating uniform. She was an enigma that'd manifested itself by the warmth of my fire. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, but she hadn't moved. She watched the fire dance in it's aura.

"You know, this is normally the time a stallion asks if I want a drink."

"Way to break the silence. It was comforting."

"Really? I thought it was boring." Her wide eyes managed to make a distinct difference in the background, yet her black hair, now that I'd turned my head, was visible.

"Well, I mean that too. Boring is good sometimes."

She traced the rim of her canteen with her hoof delicately, as if it were a fine glass.

"I don't drink anything the ponies here have to offer anyway. I'm a wine mare myself."

"Classy."

"Very."

"I was being sarcastic."

"I know."

She was no fun. Well at least in the short term. She gave me a sly smile.

"You?"

"I prefer brandy, straight or on rocks. That or whisky on the rocks. It's an acquired taste."

"So is wine, but that's something I could never do."

The conversation on beverages carried on for a considerable amount of time, the snow had began piling up on her hair as it did my helmet. I inspected her more thoroughly when I realised what was in her pocket. A pair of bloodied gloves. Latex gloves.

"What's with the gloves?"

"I'm a surgeon here. Needed a place to relax."

"Work never ends for a surgeon, even when you're out."

"Especially with dumbasses like you smoking your fucking cigar."

That one made my cough, I was mid draw when she had to point that out. I tossed the cigar into the fire, it was out anyway.

"What's with the attitude?"

"You ever seen a surgeon who liked tobacco?"

"I mean, no."

"Drop it, work isn't done cause ponies like you just love your cancer sticks."

"Got the point hun, you don't kill your liver with that wine and I won't kill my lungs with my cigars. Deal?"

The pact had been made, but I'd never asked her name. The emergency room alarm sounded, and she got up to leave when I stopped her by grabbing her sleeve.

"I didn't get your name, I'm Cloud Dasher. I'm stayin in barracks East 3 if you ever want to stop by."

"I'll neglect the information of my quarters, but my name is Octavia. First name should be sufficient?"

"Guess it is."

"You know, your name sounds like a mare I used to know, Rainbow Dash. Any relation?"

"Never heard of her."

"Huh shame, she got shot down a few weeks ago. Don't think she made it. You just reminded me of her somehow."

Guess that's nice, somehow.

I walked to the bar in a march, Bellona following me. She had no idea what was going on, and neither did she have any form of indication. I'd made my way over to the seat on the far left end of the bar, she'd had her back turned to me. Between the scars and the color of her coat I couldn't tell if she really had aged as well as she looked. It wasn't until she turned around and looked me in the eye that I realised just how little had changed.

"I never did tell you where I stayed did I?" She said, making full eye contact.

"Guess I found it right?"

"Well now that you have, if you ask for a goddamn show I'm gonna put your balls through your throat you hear me?"

"Never planned on it. Why aren't you doing doctor'y things?"

"Most doctors are workin in Canterlot, sorry old man but I don't want to be working in a place that reminds me of up North."

"I never really moved away from that." I gave her a flash of my sawed off. I'd left the Ak at home to stay inconspicuous.

"You better keep that thing holstered old man."

"We're practically the same age, good try though."

"You know you don't say stuff like that to a mare. What're you doing here?"

"I guess you could say that my Sabotage job just turned to hostage recovery."

She cocked her head at me and mumbled something incomprehensible to me.

"Look, you just get under that bar when you hear shots. That thing bulletproof?"

"I got two things to say. First: What you're thinking is a horrible idea. Second: No it's not."

"Well get as low as you can. You know the drill. We're Marines."

"I was Navy, good guess."

"Whatever, just get on the floor."

There'd been no music here, all the light came from candles and there was no electricity. Nonetheless the place was packed. The bar had been full except for the seat I'd taken. The dance floor (which was really a bunch of people jacked up on LSD pretending to all hear music) was packed as well. Guess they all took a ride on that blue bus, if that was even still relevant these days. I walked up to one of the colts with the guns, I had a bit of a question for them.

"Hey kid, who runs the place?" I tried to sound aggressive, but the small colt responded in a voice that caught me off guard.

"Oh you mean daddy? My dad is real busy yes sir. Should be out back talking to some ladies that's him. Daddy is a strong stallion yes he is."

This was, literally, a filly. I had absolutely no idea how to react to this.

"So your daddy runs this place?"

"Yessir!"

He almost seemed proud to be a pimp's son.

"Alright, you said he was behind the place?"

"Yessir! Daddy's on business though he said not to be loud or he'd not give me supper."

I'd made my way outside, sure to avoid any unnecessary attention. The guard who'd tried to grope Bell had made his way elsewhere. So I maintained my course. Surely enough I'd heard a stallion with a Fillydelphian accent voice up.

"Look here broad, if you ain't gon collect the gold the way I tol ya to you best get a new line of work hear me?"

She was quivering, something wasn't right.

"I know you gotta foal of your own out home but you best trust me I'll let you go if you been rippin me off."

I turned the corner, he was talking to a young mare, maybe 18 best. Sad world these days. Sad world. I handed Bellona the shotgun in case things got rough and held the makarov in my right hoof under the jacket.

"Hey buddy got a minute?"

I called over to him, he instantly dropped the tough guy act without even seeing the gun.

"Oh hey, don't think we've met. I'm Peach Cobbler, local businessman. Waddya need?" The way he said 'Peach Cobbler' was more like 'Pich Cobblah'. His parents must be real proud.

"I was told that your business ain't welcome here. Move it."

"Woah woah here look dude, let's not jump to conclusions here, I just run the bar. The boy who runs the gals is inside. You best be talkin with Beans inside."

"Beans?"

"Yea, Silver Beans, heard of him?"

"Nope, can't say I have."

"Well I'll cut ya a deal. Talk him into leavin and I'll make it worth ya while."

"I got a question."

"Blast my dude."

"If he runs the skin, who's the mare you were talking to."

A young, orange colored mare poked her head from around a corner.

"Oh her? She's Orange Blossom, she's a bartender. I'm trainin her, that skin guy got the gal inside to do her job and he got a cut of the gold. Not my choice but those guards he got don't leave room for negotiating."

"I see, well here, I got a way you can pay me to help you out here."

"What's that?"

"Bean's bartender. I want her."

"Well whatever floats your boat. You can take the deed if you can convince him to let that fine little thing outta his hoof. Hear she's his personal favourite out of the bunch. Whatever that's worth to a colorful character like him."

"Huh, guess I'll do some talkin."

I walked back inside, the guards were back. This time the one I pulled the knife on was a little less kind. He pulled a revolver to my head.

"Look buddy, you're gonna let me do my little pat down or I'll blow your fuckin head cross this shithole you hear me?"

I simply put my hooves up, looked like he forgot a hole in his plan.

He moved his attention to Bellona, who promptly pushed him to the ground. The weapon flew from his hoof. She had already stomped on his head before he knew what had hit him. He forgot that he would need to stare to do what he wanted to her. With him outta the way the other guard went on his own route to Celestia-Knows-Where.

"He slipped, didn't see nopony." He said as he walked by. Least he knew what was good for him.

I walked inside, time to do my job.

Author's Notes:

Guess who's back cyka.